Latin class in Jr High (~ '61) often left me gasping for air. I found that a cylinder choked straw saved from lunch parlayed into a "shotgun" was quite affective half way across the classroom. A spit wad behind bits of #2 pencil lead would bring my buddy up out of s semi-consciousness stupor in a seizure-like jerk that one time resulted in all his books falling to the floor. Alas, this quickly became a short-term pass time.
